I had one of those moments tonight. One of those chances to give something a chance and practice what you preach.
Having just arrived back in New Orleans after a week and a half away following a semester that might as well have been a lifetime (wherein a creature went from being only able to roll over to WALKING, grabbing things, and making dog and horsey noises in appropriate contexts!), I was not feeling eager to host friends-of-a-friend's on our first full day/evening back.
I kept my polite conversation brief, and retreated multiple times to our room, where, under the guise of changing clothes I tried to reconcile wanting to be hospitable and fun with being a mom and a person who really values intimate time and privacy.
I didn't realize, nor had I taken the time to ask, that these guests were only popping in to our house a few times today in between adventures and already had plans to sleep somewhere else this evening. The question that had freaked me out earlier, wondering "How long are they planning to stay here?" which was, "Do you have a cutting board and knife I can use?" actually meant they were going to cook us plantains to thank us for our generosity.
When I was in Algiers Point, with a guest house (and no baby), I had absolutely no problem hosting friend-of-friends, and in fact, relished it. Lately I guess... first of all, I feel like my personal life is richer than it ever was, and I want to take every opportunity I get to nurture it. Secondly, along with that rich personal life has come interrupted sleep and a lack of truly Carrie-only space/time. I think the latter has pushed me toward the edge of crazy. So that when a friend-of-a-friend wants someone to show them around New Orleans, I don't think anymore: "Fun! Come on down!" but, "Can we just turn off the lights and say we're not home?"
Anyway, they were here and they were in our kitchen, frying plantains. Once Stefin informed me that they were not planning on staying post-plantain-eating, I chilled out, walked around the corner to buy a few good beers, and got down on drawing them a color-coded map of the French Quarter and Marigny.
We talked more; it was jovial. We snacked, had a beer; they left.
I learned again, what I've learned many times, that I should give folks the benefit of the doubt.
